Going Digital in a world full of TV's & Newpapers

This is just my goofy place to rant, tell stories, and blow off steam. If you want some kookie, kool and fantabulous retro-tiki fun stuff, please visit my retro-matic site at TikiLoungeTalk.com!

For those of you who don't know, I'm the Creative Director of an ad agency in Hollywood, Florida. Not quite like Don Draper, but I do have a bottle of Johnny Walker at my desk.

As C.D., I am responsible for coming up with hip, new ideas to promote our clients' products. I also design a lot of the artwork, and occasionally do some good old fashioned copy writing. Fun job, pay is decent, and I get a corner office with a view of the South Florida skyline. We specialize in traditional forms of advertising, ie, we don't build websites.

Last month we got hit over the head with a request from a restaurant client, somewhat out of the blue. The client told us they wanted our agency to take over all of their online advertising responsibilities, including Pay-per-click, SEO, and all that other krazy new-fangled stuff that goes along with teh internets. Well, we said, no problem. After all, we don't do all of our TV production in-house, or radio, or direct mail. We farm it out. So we'll farm this out too, just managing the operation. Right?

Well, not quite.

Seems this particular client doesn't think we know anything about internet marketing. Even though we've showed them time and again what they should be doing on the net, even though we've given them proposal after proposal outlining online strategies. We even set them up with a Facebook and Twitter account (which they never use). Even though I've made it my mission to learn a lot about online marketing, which lead to the creation of my real blog, Tiki Chris Pinto's Tiki Lounge Conversations, and eventually to this blog, my dark-side vent.

It appears we have a lack of communication with some of our clients. We'll fix that, immediately. But to do so, we're going to have to change our entire system. We're no longer going to be known as a traditional ad house. The market dictates that we become a digital-heavy agency with the added value of traditional media in our mix. For me, this means an exciting adventure into new, mod territory. At the same time it's Goddamned terrifying. But that should make it exciting too, shouldn't it?

All my life, I've lived in the past. I sport fedoras, not because they are retro-cool, but because that's what I would have worn if I lived 60 years ago. I talk the way my grand father's and father's generations did, because that's just how I yap. I drive a 53 Chevy, and for every day use I have a PT Cruiser Convertible Hot Rod that's made up to look like something out of the 30's. I play jazz and swing sax and listen to Glen Miller, Duke Ellington and Elvis. To me, a computer is a glorified typewriter with a built-in filing cabinet and encyclopedia, and changing the ribbons is a krazy pain because I can't find them. Yet here I am, halfway through my kookie life, and I've got to totally switch gears in order to keep my little gig.

Totally? Well, no. Actually the way I look at it, the internet is just another opportunity to exploit, another place to paste up tons of ads, except it's powerful enough that I can show ads to the people who might actually want to see them, and leave everyone else alone. No matter what anyone says, there will always be newspapers and magazines (although they will change drastically), TV ads and radio commercials. (They too will change, to accommodate TiVo and XM). But as those mediums become less usable, the internet will rise to the call. And it looks like I'm going to be riding the top of that wave, or drown trying.

Working on the book, "Murder Behind the Closet Door"

I know that a lot of blog readers are also writers. If you're a writer reading this, you know how much fun, yet how difficult writing can be...especially if you take on a 600 page novel.

In 2002 I got laid off from a job as a graphic designer. I decided two things: one, I'd look for a much better job that suited my talents, and two, I wouldn't spend my idle time at home being idle. So, as I looked for a great job, I also did a few things around the house...built some bookshelves...worked on my 53 Chevy...and started writing a book.

I never intended to publish the book. I never even intended anyone to read it...it was really for me, a collection of memories from my youth, dreams, nightmares, and ideas. I had no outline, no real plot...just a basic story idea, a style in which to write it, and a lot of little facts to stick in for fun.

After I wrote the first few pages, I showed it to my wife. To my surprise, she thought it was actually good...really good, worth developing. Now, my wife ain't the type to just say something like that to make me feel good. If it sucked, she would have said so. And since she reads two to three books a week, I took her word for it.

So I continued on, free-flow, just typing along anything that came to mind. And after about three weeks the first draft was completed (except for the end). But it needed a LOT of polishing. And an ending.

On and off over the next year I played around with it. I got the great job I was looking for after only three months, so the time I had to devote to it was getting slim, but I'd stay up late and work on it until two in the morning, sometimes three. This got me a lot of writing done, but also got me a hell of a lot of typos!

Over the next two years, I added entire new chapters to it, re-arranged it, edited it, cut things out, added things in, expanded characters, and eventually came up with an ending that I liked, that made sense. I insisted that all of my characters made choices that made sense, not ones that made it easy to propagate the story. This made things a little harder, but it made the story a lot better.

I wanted to write a book that I would enjoy reading myself. Now, seven years later, I've gone over it and over it, knocking out the goofs, tweaking things here and there, looking at it from an editor's view (ow) and finally getting it in the final stages of being production ready.

I've got a few more typo's to fix, and a couple of lines need to flow a little sweeter, but besides that the book is finished. I have no delusions of ever getting an agent or publisher to seriously look at it, since the publishing industry is so tight and so impenetrable. I wish I knew someone in the biz, because I think this book could really take off. It's got murder, sex, violence, ghosts, suspense, and mystery all wrapped up in a well-written, easy-read package.

The story takes place in Wildwood and Ocean City, New Jersey, primarily in the winter of 1978/1979, with flashbacks to the 30's and 50's. It gives the reader a real sense of what things were like at the time, and will bring back a lot of memories for those who lived through that era.

Tonight, I managed to get through final proofing of a dozen pages. I found an average of one typo per page, mostly small punctuation issues or things like "then" instead of "them". I have only about 300 pages left to proof, then it's off to CreateSpace for printing, so I can at least get a couple of books for myself and friends. Sure, it will go up for sale; I'll market it with what little budget I have, and maybe even sell a few copies. Maybe, if lady luck smiles on me, someone with clout will notice it, and if they think it's good enough I might even get a book deal. Well, I know there are a million+ people thinking the same thing about their books, so I won't hold my breath. But I can dream, can't I?

For more information on Murder Behind the Closet Door visit my official website at StarDustMysteries.com

Snow? What's snow?

I've heard it's snowing in parts of the US. I seriously can't remember the last time I saw snow.

I think it may have been the winter of 1999/2000. I dropped my car keys in three inches of snow, which sat on top two inches of pine needles and oak leaves in New Jersey. It took a rake, a shovel, and two hours to find them. That's when I decided to move to South Florida and never look back.

I do miss snow; I especially enjoyed watching snow fall during the night, when everything was very quiet and still. There's something magical about watching snowflakes fall from the night sky, shimmering in the light of a street lamp. It's trying to get around in it the next day I can do without.

I hope to see snow again someday, while on vacation. But mark my words, unless I get an incredible deal on a 20 acre vineyard, I'll never live where it snows again.

Just because you are a Republican doesn't mean you have to be a mindless, annoying prick.

Tiki Lounge Talk, my full-blown tiki-retro blog, is all about having fun...with a cocktail, a kool car and a hot chick. This little corner of the world is where I get to mouth off about the dark stuff...stuff that annoys me, or just makes me want to blow stuff up.

Today I saw a truck that had some little stickers plastered all over the back of it. It was a work truck, an electrician's. I'm pretty sure if I still had my big Caddy, I'd have driven this a-hole off the damned road and into a building.

The stickers were supposed to be 'clever', but what they were, were just plain stupid. They were, as follows:

• Palin 2012
• I'll keep my gun, my freedom and my rights, you keep the 'change'
• No-bama
• Don't blame me
• Welcome to the Socialist States of America
• In God we trust

So, if you're a democrat you are now saying, "Yeah! What an stupid a-hole!" and if you're a republican your probably saying, "yeah! He's right!" Well, republican, dem or in between, a jack ass is a jack ass, and he certainly was a jack ass. He also neglected to use his turn signal.

Let me say at this point, that I am a capitalistic, gun-toting, crappy-fuel-economy-car-driving guy who really doesn't want the government to interfere with my life by passing laws that 'require' me to do things I don't really want to do. But at the same time, I believe in equal rights, logical gun control, electric cars and serious reform of the health care and banking industries. So what does that make me?

It makes me a good old fashioned, intelligent, free-thinking American. Someone with a brain who doesn't buy into all the extremes that both sides are slinging. I can look at both sides and ascertain the facts myself.

Does carbon monoxide from cars contribute to global climate change? yes. Is global climate change a cyclical process? yes. Are we headed for an ice age that we can't really do a damned thing about? yes. See how easy that was?

Did the last eight years of Republican rule break the world? yes. Is Obama any better than W? Yes, but then again so is mold.

Does Obama have all the answers, and will he make all the bad things go away? No. Would have McCain and Palin made all the bad things go away? Hell no. See? very easy.

I have a Florida State Concealed Weapons Permit (AKA License to kill) which under FL state law allows me to carry my cannon of a .45 Automatic nearly anywhere, and gives me the right to use deadly force if my or someone else's life is in danger. You know what I fear most? Not the guy who might mug me at the gas station at 1am. I fear the yahoo with the bumper stickers that say "Palin 2012" and "I'll keep my gun, you keep the change", because that guy is truly insane, AND he has a gun. That's the kind of whack job that ends up walking into a mall and shooting everyone he sees, for no reason other than the angels told him to do it.

So, I guess if anyone reads this, there will be some pissed-off dems and reps, but you know what? I don't give a rat's ass. Now go have a drink and calm down. No matter what your affiliation, you better damn-well believe in MY freedom of speech. If you don't, get lost. There's no room for you in my country.

Mod Movie Mondays at the Tiki Bar

I've started a new feature at Tiki Lounge Talk (AKA Tiki Bar Talk) - Mod Movie Mondays, where each week I'll give my suggestions on movies (and the best booze to go with them) from the mod and atomic eras. I kicked it off with the top of the psychedelic flick list, Barbarella. If you haven't dug this reel than dig it soon. Jane Fonda is far-out and beautiful as hell, the sets are wild, the story is crazy and its got the perfect amount of camp and silliness to make it a primo pick. Check out Tiki Lounge Talk for more pix, info and fun stuff.

Damn, I miss old fashioned antique car shows

Today a my wife, a friend and I went to a huge antique & classic car show in Pompano.
It wasn't bad...one of the best I've been to in Florida...but there still wasn't the magic of car shows i went to with my old lady and old man when I was a kid.

This show was about 60% muscle cars and hot rods (and Covettes), 25% Pre 1965 non-muscle cars and 15% hoopdies (70's cars with 22" rims through new cars customized). You could pic your year, engine and color for 'Vettes and 'Stangs. You could count the pre-war antiques on two hands.

When I was a kid, '57 Chevys were only around 20 years old, and 60's muscle cars were 10-year-old junk that only greasy kids that hung out in shop class wanted. You could take your pick of 50's finned cars, because most people thought of them as old, gas-guzzling, out-of-style clunkers. I knew a guy who lived in a 40-foot trailer, and had three '67 Caddy convertibles. He tried to sell me one for $300, and I remember telling him it was too much because the seat was ripped. So car shows in the ’70s & '80s were filled with line after line of Model A Fords, '32 Chevys, '30s Cadillacs and LaSalles, and rare cars from the '50s and '60s like the '58 Caddy Eldorado Brougham and the '63 Lincoln Convertible. There were always big-fendered cars from the '30s, and even a few bullet holes from the Prohibition era. Novelty cars like the Amphicar and odd-balls like American Bantam of the '30s were usually featured. Hot rods were generally cars that had been hot-rodded in the '50s, and still looked the same. And almost everybody did a good amount of the restorations themselves.
I also used to love the shows that were held at old-style locations. In particular, there was a show held in the Historic Towne of Smithville in South Jersey. The whole town was made up of houses and shops from the 18th century. Somehow those Tin Lizzies and fat fendered Fords looked pefect next to those old houses. Another was held at a little place called Gravely Run, also in SJ. It was a group of buildings from the turn of the century, and had the same appeal. One of the best was held throughout the city of Wildwood, NJ, a town that grew up in the '50s and 60's and has a the largest collection of "Doo-Wop" style mid-century motels and diners in the world. THAT was fantastic (I drove to it in my '56 Buick Draggin Waggin)
This show we went to today was held at the Festival Flea Market, a temple of modern, cheap commercialism. Not that it's a bad thing, but there was just something off-kilter about seeing a '53 Cadillac next to a 2006 Custom Escalade, in front of a plastic & aluminum modern sign for the mall.
Don't get me wrong, I still had fun today. There were a lot of cool cars and even a couple of antique motorcycles. But I don't think I'll ever get to go to a car show like the ones I went to as a kid again.
To see the photos from this show, over 100 with great views of the best cars, go to TikiLoungeTalk.com

REAL Ghosts of Halloween

A few encounters with the 'other side' I decided to print, even if no one reads it...
Halloween has always been a big deal for me. I decorate the whole house, drive my wife & friends insane, have a big Halloween party and cap it all off with scaring the living daylights out of trick-or-treaters. Halloween was always my mother's favorite holiday, and that made it my father's favorite too.
My mother passed away fairly young in 1996. She was very much into the occult, and always said that if there was a way to come back from the other side, she would. I truly expected her to do so, but besides a few dreams, she seemed at peace. Then, on Halloween 1996, two strange things happened...although I had no spice cookies (or anything like them) in the house, I smelled the aroma of these cookies several times throughout the night. Spice cookies were my mother's favorite Halloween treat. Also, she would play around by biting the tops off the candy corns and throwing them back in the bowl. Although I checked them all before putting them out, by Halloween day several candy corns were missing the tops. This happened several more Halloweens since.
In 2002, my father passed away. On the day he died, he told the nurses his wife was coming to get him later, to take him dancing. He insisted she had been there and was coming back.That was Halloween day, October 31, 2002.
About two weeks before, the lightbulb blew out in his room in our house. He was too week to change it himself, and got me to do it for him before I left for work. This was very traumatic for him; he was always a very strong, independent man, and went on about how he'd be sitting in the dark that night if I hadn't been able to help him. Since then, every year around the middle of September right up to Halloween, bulbs start blowing. Even the 7-year jobs. It's always in his room first, then a few more around the house. I've had the wires checked, they're fine. I use quality bulbs that should last for years. This year six bulbs blew out in three weeks, including one on Halloween morning, just after a loud crash made me jump out of my skin. The crash was cauldron decoration that broke loose from an 8lb test line (it weighed less than a pound). It fell in a very strange place...and broke a middle eastern drum that my father used to play for my mother, who was a belly dancer.
***
In 1996 I bought small bungalow in Northfield, NJ. Built in 1928, this cute little house featured glass doorknobs, 12-pane windows and a modernized basement which I turned into a rec room. I bought it from the great grand daughter of the home's original owners, who told me the house originally had a penny candy store in the front room. Her grandfather still lived next door, and came over a few times with stories of how he lived there as a young boy during the great depression...the candy store barely keeping the family afloat, he and his brothers and sisters sleeping in small sectioned rooms in the basement. He seemed sad the house was no longer in his family, but at the same time was happy he was so close. He passed away a few years after I moved in, and soon after that I started having strange feelings of not being alone, usually around 11pm and lasting until around 3am. One night while sleeping in my bedroom (which would have been his parents' room), I awoke to find a shadow of a figure, about 4 feet tall, blocking my bedroom door. It was a solid shadow, and as I always slept with a light on I could see it clearly. I don't know how I know this, but I knew it was the shadow of a young boy, standing in the doorway looking at me. I looked back right at it, at first thinking I was waking from a dream. But this was no dream. I stared at it for about five seconds, and then it simply faded away. A few nights later, I was lying in my bed trying to fall asleep, and could not. I decided to get up and get a little snack; when I opened my eyes, a cherub-like face was staring into mine from about two feet away, between me and the ceiling. I was startled, but not scared as the face was smiling. It disappeared in a blink, but after that I didn't have any more uninvited visitors to my room.
***
When I was a kid, my grandparents and aunt & uncle lived in two houses a block away from each other in South Philly. I hated both those houses. Strange noises, eerie feelings, visions, and a sense of dread hit me every time I went to visit, especially in my Uncle's back bedroom and basement. Once, while my wife and I were staying in that back bedroom during a visit, we both woke in the middle of the night to witness the far end of the room morphing, changing into something else, then back again. Another time I felt the room was collapsing in on me, and could see the walls moving. In the basement (which was a nicely done rec room with a bar), I'd suddenly fell as though the room were full of people...even behind me. Then it would go away. Years later I found out that in the mid to late 19th century, the Philadelphia Alms House had used most of South Philly as a grave yard for unclaimed bodies. When they began to build streets and homes at the turn of the century, they basically built right over the unmarked graves. With most basements only dug four feet into the ground (with two or three feet above ground) they didn't have to worry about hitting the bodies six feet under. In the late 90's or early 00's, some south Philly-ans found coffins and remains when they decided to deepen their basements. I feel strongly that there are bodies buried under that basement floor in my Uncle's house...it would certainly explain a lot.